


Once and for all

by 4badmice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Lie Low At Lupin's, Lying low at Lupin's- sort of, Memories, Nothing's ever easy, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3104753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4badmice/pseuds/4badmice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the fourth book: Sirius isn't doing too well during the winter after his return from the Caribbean. When an unfortunate incident leaves him injured, he turns to Remus Lupin for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once and for all

 

 

Remus Lupin leaned back in his armchair and tiredly closed his eyes. The warmth of the fire slowly displaced the coldness he had felt in his bones all day, and he languorously moved his toes in his thick woolen socks. Two days since the full moon and he still felt as if he'd run for hours. A dull pain had settled in his muscles, and there seemed to be needles somewhere behind his eyeballs.

It was only three days till Christmas, but he didn't feel like celebrating. With a sigh he admitted to himself that he had been rather glad about having an excuse to decline any invitations; he wanted a crackling fire and to be left in peace, nothing more.

He had long since accepted that his own company had to be sufficient; he did value the friends he still had, yet he had felt old recently, old and a tad useless. He didn't like to think that it might have to do with the loss of his job, though it was more than likely. He had loved teaching, and having to give up his position at Hogwarts hadn't only meant pecuniary cutbacks but also a return to his former loneliness. Being a teacher and the notion of effectuating something had brought about a welcome change; for the first time since he had graduated from school, he had felt less like a victim of his lycanthropy and more of a normal member of society. For his kind, it wasn't usual to be accepted or even wanted anywhere, therefore Dumbledore's offer to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts had been a blessing. It had felt, if ever so briefly, as though he had his life under control, for which he had been grateful.

It hadn't been easy, of course, on the contrary: it had been surprisingly painful to find himself in the old familiar surroundings of Hogwarts castle. Even weeks after term had started, he caught himself looking for faces which were long gone. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine to be transported back in time; the ground underneath his feet was still the same, the walls around him as imperturbable as ever. Invariably, after a moment of elation, he was left with disappointment, and yet- at times, he couldn't resist, his ever persevering grief and nostalgia getting the better of him. Even people who knew him well were wrong in thinking he was rational. True, he liked to think things through, but he also tended to allow himself to be led by his emotions if he wasn't careful. _Remus, the dreamer_. He could hear the voice in his head as clearly as though James were standing next to him.

He ran his hand over his closed eyes, slowly, because his muscles were protesting against any movements, and tried to chase away the ghosts which threatened to disturb the quiet hour. They weren't real spectres like those which lived at Hogwarts, but memories. To his dismay, his eyes were burning all of a sudden; they were all he had left of the best friends he'd ever had, and their absence and the reason for it was enough, even after all these years, to break his heart all over again.

One of those ghosts however was still alive, he told himself. One of them, Sirius, the one who had been closest to him during their time at school. Pain now mingled with the sense of loss; Sirius had suffered as well, probably more than he, Remus, during the twelve years after Lily and James' death, but contrary to the werewolf, no one had allowed him his grief. Innocently convicted as the murderer, he had officially lost the right to mourn. With a pang, Remus recalled how he himself had been wrong as well, what he had thought of Sirius all those years. It made him flush with shame. And now Sirius was free, but still on the run. Why did the circumstances have to be so disadvantageous, he asked himself. Hadn't Sirius been through enough already?

He kneaded his stiff joints. He didn't even know where Sirius was tonight, where he'd be tomorrow. He was careful, only leaving the safety of his hiding place after he had turned into a dog. _Playing the_ _lovable stray,_ Remus thought, unaware that he was smiling at the notion. Very probably Sirius was keeping contact with Harry, but he couldn't risk writing to too many people and receive mail in return. At least that's what Remus told himself. If he'd write to Sirius, he'd unnecessarily jeopardize his friend's safety, wouldn't he? Or did he simply not know what to write at all?

Exhausted and unwilling to analyze his motives, he sank deeper into the armchair and concentrated on the soft sounds the burnings logs made as they crumbled in the fire. Soon afterwards, he had dozed off.

 

It was dark and noticeably cooler in the room when he was startled out of his slumber; there were only a few embers left in the fireplace. Confused, Remus sat up, not entirely awake yet; something had interrupted his sleep rather abruptly. There was a disturbance around him, yet only when he got to his feet and blinked away the last bit of grogginess he realized that the high-pitched humming sound which made his hair stand on end was part of his own protective charm which was surrounding the house. Someone had tried to get in.

Remus took his wand from the coffee table and murmured a barely audible "Finite". The humming ceased immediately.

Sore muscles and aching bones forgotten, Lupin soundlessly moved towards the door and slid into his shoes. It was only a small, half dilapidated hut he was living in, but he had made it his fortress.

His whole body was tense, his heart was hammering against his ribcage. Maybe it's only a cat, he told himself, maybe a bird had tried to land on the roof. Maybe. And yet- animals usually avoided the place, as though they sensed the presence of the wolf.

 

He kept his wand raised as he slipped through the door. The sky was cast over, the air smelled of snow. The surrounding trees looked like a single dark, threatening mass. Nothing moved, and the silence sent a shiver down Remus' spine. His gaze swept over the ground and caught a dark shape lying on the grass. He stared, unable to move.

Animals usually avoided the hut. Unless... no. It couldn't be. Sirius was far away, had left Europe to hide, right? Buckbeak had carried him somewhere remote, where it hopefully was warm and safe.

With an effort, Remus shook himself out of his stupor and approached the unmoving figure. Maybe it was a trap, a small inner voice warned him. For a moment, he hesitated, then he threw caution in the wind.

It was a large, black dog who was lying on its side just as it had fallen after the magical barrier had catapulted it away. It was panting as though it had been running.

Remus' knees felt like jelly all of a sudden, and he sank down next to the dog. He didn't heed the coldness which immediate made itself known: "Padfoot," he whispered hoarsely. The dog didn't react, it seemed barely conscious. Trembling, Lupin extended one hand, touching the short fur. The dog was trembling as well, and its skin felt clammy.

Remus didn't tarry any longer. Somehow, he managed to get up, to hoist the dog up in his arms. It wasn't nearly as heavy as he had anticipated, but his still sore body protested nevertheless. With clenched teeth, he carried his unexpected visitor into the house.

 

It was considerably warmer inside despite the fire having died down. Lupin knelt in front of the fireplace and carefully eased Padfoot onto the rug. With his wand, he rekindled the fire and lit several lamps. As he then looked his old friend over, he felt a rush of worry: in the light, Padfoot looked dreadful. He was painfully thin, his fur dirty and matted. He flinched when Remus touched him, whimpering briefly.

"Paddy," Remus said quietly. "Do you hear me?"

The black paws twitched.

"Can you change back?"

Padfoot snuffled softly and closed his eyes.

"I thought so," Remus murmured. "But you should drink something." He got up: "I'll be right back."

In the kitchen, he filled a bowl with water; after a few minutes of deliberating, he put a few drops of Pepper-Up Potion into it.

When he knelt down next to the dog again, he momentarily thought that it had lost consciousness, but it whimpered again as it felt its friend's hands. Gently, Remus lifted Padfoot's head and helped him drink.

Remus' thoughts were reeling, and he wondered why Sirius had come out of hiding. Well, he'd only get an answer to that once his friend had regained his human form.

Once the dog had finished drinking, Remus cautiously lowered its head down again. With a cleaning charm he removed the dirt from its fur; Padfoot shivered, but still didn't move otherwise. His breathing was shallow and rather rapid now, he probably was in pain. There wasn't much Lupin could do about that for the time being; he covered his friend with a blanket and waited for the Pepper-Up Potion to take effect, so that Sirius would be able to change back.

Despite the warmth of the fire, neither of them seemed able to stop trembling.

 

For a second time that night, Remus was startled out of sleep in the early morning. Pale light was filtering through the threadbare curtains, and for a second, he wondered why he was lying on the floor, but then he remembered. Quickly, he sat up and discovered that Sirius hadn't changed back yet, but at least he seemed sound asleep. Remus wound his arms around his knees and watched the dog. He truly looked pitiful, just as he had done immediately after his escape. It had been difficult to fathom what Azkaban did to the unfortunate who were incarcerated there, but now Remus thought he had an inkling.

He didn't want to dwell on that. As quietly as possible, he got up and went into the kitchen to make tea. He was living modestly, but there were a few things he didn't want to do without, such as good tea and sufficient food. He had saved enough money to get by for the time being, even though his worn attire suggested otherwise; he simply didn't see the point in buying new clothes when he was bound to destroy them on a regular basis. Tea, a good book or a comfortable pillow were the things he valued most these days.

 

He made a pot of tea, some toast and a few rashers of bacon, hoping the smell might help to get Padfoot back on his feet, but when he looked in on him a while later, he saw that his friend was awake and still lying in the same position as before, long legs stretched out limply. He looked at Remus from under half closed lids and whimpered feebly. Worry filled Remus' heart; he knelt down next to his friend again and felt that he was trembling. He felt helpless, since he didn't know what to do as long as Sirius was in his canine shape.

After a moment of consideration, Remus got up again and went over to the bookshelf. He was so agitated that at first he didn't see the volume he was looking for, but then he pulled it out with trembling fingers: _Advanced_ _Transfiguration_ , the title said. Slowly, he leafed through it, inhaling the memories which rose from the book like a scent: _we don't need a book for it, Moony_ , James' voice effortlessly mocked him through time and space. Remus however had always preferred to be on the safe side.

He exhaled sharply once he had found the right page: _Third Party Reversions of Transfigurations_. He read the text and frowned; it wasn't without risk, but Padfoot clearly wasn't doing too well: he didn't have another choice, if he didn't want to consult someone else.

With the book in his hand he knelt down again: "We'll sort you out, Paddy," he said with more enthusiasm than he felt, and took up his wand.He looked at the page again before taking a deep breath: "Revocare forma humanum," he said loud and clear. Padfoot shivered once more and whimpered. His outline seemed to become blurred, and then Remus watched as his body slowly but steadily changed back into its human form. Remus blinked; even though he knew what was happening, the human brain refused to comprehend. It was difficult not to look away.

 

A moment later, Sirius lay where shortly before the dog had been. He was wearing a threadbare, faded Jacket; one bony wrist was visible where the blanket ended. For a moment, Remus stared at his friend's back, then his gaze wandered over to his face which was turned towards the fire. Remus could see Sirius blinking slowly, as if he had just woken up. He got to his feet and knelt down on Sirius' other side, so as to be able to look at him properly. Sirius' eyes lay deep in their sockets and were fever-glazed; his face was as haggard as the last time they'd seen each other. When their gazes met, the ghost of a smile played around the corners of his mouth: "Thank you," he said, his voice barely audible, "I couldn't..."

Remus returned the smile despite his concern: "Are you injured?"

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed: "A little," he muttered.

Frowning, Remus lifted the blanket. The sight of a small puddle of blood was so unexpected that he inhaled sharply. He hadn't smelled it; so shortly after the full moon his senses were dulled, otherwise he'd very likely also have heard Padfoot before he'd collided with the barrier.

Stunned, he stared at the dark liquid: Padfoot didn't bleed when he had carried him inside, he'd have noticed.

 

Sirius closed his eyes again. He was freezing, despite the fire and his fever, and felt incredibly exhausted. It had been bad luck: a muggle had attacked him when he had caught the black dog on his property, and had repeatedly hit him with a rusty spade.

The wound had only stopped bleeding once he had changed back into his human form and pressed his arms onto it, despite the pain it inflicted on his considerably battered ribs. He had leaned against a tree in order to remain standing and had felt stupid: all but mauled by a muggle, and only because he had taken a shortcut. Oh well, he had smelled chicken and thought he'd have a look, since there wasn't any harm in that. Wrong, Paddy, he told himself and would have grinned, had he felt up to it.

He didn't quite know why he hadn't defended himself; maybe the reason was the profound weariness which had settled in his bones; for days, his limbs had felt as heavy as lead. It was bitterly cold in the cave in which Buckbeak and he had found shelter after returning from the Caribbean. During the nights, he changed into Padfoot and slept curled up, nestled against the hippogriff in order to keep warm. It wasn't enough, however; he noticed how his strength was dwindling, despite Harry's occasional packages of food. Therefore, Sirius had taken to Apparate to other places; he had to be careful not to be seen in Hogsmeade too often, and the chicken houses there were protected by very efficient charms anyway. Sirius had hoped that maybe the one or other muggle who had never heard of the Grim might take pity on him, but the small village in which he had tried his luck that day had been all but deserted. And then the spade attack had happened.

Exhaustedly, he had sat down underneath a tree; when he came to, it was already dark. His ribs and the wound on his side were sending waves of red hot pain through his body, and he was trembling from the cold.

"Fine mess, Paddy," he muttered with clenched teeth. He knew he needed help; this time, he wasn't able to sort himself out, that much was clear. With an effort, he got to his feet, barely able to keep himself upright.

 _Moony_ , he thought, blinking; he knew where to find him, since Dumbledore had written to him, out of the blue. One morning, Sirius had received a letter delivered by a highly unusual messenger: Fawkes, with a rather cryptic note typical of the Hogwarts headmaster, informing him of Remus Lupin's current whereabouts in case it interested him. As though the old man had known.

Sirius clenched his teeth together once more; he didn't think he'd manage to fly all the way to Wales on Buckbeak, the air was too cold and he wasn't certain if he'd be able to keep himself on the hippogriff's back; he felt rather faint. He could only try to Apparate, hoping not to splinch himself.

He landed on all fours, well away from the hut, breathless and panting, but in one piece. With all of his remaining energy, he changed into Padfoot once more; he swayed a little and staggered when he began to move, but at least he _was_ still moving, even though the pain was excruciating by now. The wound had begun to bleed again when Remus had carried him inside; as the werewolf had then used a cleaning charm, he hadn't noticed the blood.

 

Remus now bent over his friend: "I'll have a look at that," he said, finding it difficult to appear calm. "What happened?"

"Muggle," Sirius managed. "With a... a spade." He gasped when Remus pulled his shirt aside; the cloth had been clinging to the wound, every touch was utterly painful. The spade had caused a deep gash, leaving no small amount of rust in the wound.

For once, Remus was glad about his lycanthropy; being a werewolf meant he often unintentionally harmed himself during the full moon, therefore he had quite some experience with injuries. He carefully cleaned the wound, then used a charm which caused it to close and scab over while it began to heal. Sirius didn't make a sound during the procedure, but he was white-faced and drenched in cold sweat. Next, Remus healed the apparently fractured ribs and removed the blood with another cleaning charm before getting to his feet: "I'll be right back," he said once more.

When he knelt down next to Sirius again, he had brought a vial of blood-replenishing potion. Very gently, he helped Sirius to sit up a little; his head rested against Remus' shoulder rather heavily, he was too depleted to be able to keep himself upright. Once the vial was empty, they stayed like that for a moment, since Remus feared Sirius might get sick otherwise; he didn't want to cause any nausea or worse, vomiting.

Sirius felt a tingling sensation spreading through his body. The wool of Remus' cardigan smelled familiar, of Remus and, very faintly, of sheep. There was heartbeat, but he couldn't tell if it was his own or that of his friend. Slowly, he began to doze off; Remus' closeness and his warmth were comforting, and thinking was becoming increasingly arduous.

There was too much pressure on his temples; gratefully, he allowed himself to slip into the darkness which was engulfing him and still seemed to increase. It brought silence and oblivion, two things which he hadn't been granted for a very long time.

 

**TBC**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The only Latin I know is from Monty Python's Life of Brian, therefore the spell Remus uses to change Sirius back might be wrong entirely. Sorry for that and for possible mistakes- English is not my Native Tongue.  
> Romani ite domum and I hope you enjoyed reading! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
